


reunion

by V_e_s_a_n_u_s



Series: Whumptober 2018 [18]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Concussions, Fluff, Headaches & Migraines, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Smut, Non-Graphic Smut, Whumptober, pavellan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-05 01:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16358012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_e_s_a_n_u_s/pseuds/V_e_s_a_n_u_s
Summary: Day number 20 of #whumptober! Prompt was concussion!Dorian and Lavellan have just been reunited after a couple of weeks apart and they take things straight to the bedroom... but it doesn't exactly end as planned.





	reunion

“Mahanon…” came the breathy sigh from above him, as the elf ghosted his fingertips down sweat-soaked skin. The elf looked up, his eyes meeting the golden ones above him as he winked at the dazed human. Dorian’s head fell back against the pillows, a breathless laugh falling from his lips.  _ “Touch me, amatus.” _

The Inquisitor gave a teasing laugh in response, “I  _ am _ touching you, Dorian.”

The mage groaned in response, reaching down to grasp the long tendrils of white hair and pull on them tightly, “Come  _ onnn-” _ He mumbled, tugging on the strands in his grip again when Mahanon didn’t reply. 

The elf rested his chin on the man’s chest, watching him with dreamy eyes as he continued gently stroking his hands up and down Dorian’s arms, his sides, his chest - anywhere he could, really. “Tell me what you want me to do.” 

Dorian sighed, throwing an arm over his face in embarrassment, “Touch me, use me,  _ fuck me,  _ I really don’t care but just...  _ Please!”  _

“You really must want it,” Mahanon smirked, “You usually don’t beg for  _ hours,  _ yet. I’m not sure you’ve earned it…” Dorian whined in response, “But, you  _ did  _ ask nicely…” Regardless, he started kissing his way down Dorian’s torso. He was just as desperate as the mage at this point. They’d been apart for weeks whilst the Inquisitor was scouting the Hissing Wastes and they needed it  _ badly. _

His lips were trailing the lines of the muscle underneath the slick layer of skin, tasting the salt on his tongue. He moved down Dorian’s torso slowly, mouth firm against him and hands using more pressure now. He reached one hand up to flick a nipple and the mage keened at the attention. Mahanon kept crawling further down the bed, his lips and tongue just reaching the top of Dorian’s waistband when suddenly it all went wrong. 

Mahanon’s legs slipped off the end of the large bed, and in an instant, the elf was falling off. He yelped, trying to grab onto the sheets as he fell, but he only managed to change the directory of his momentum, sending him crashing into the bedframe head-first, followed by slamming his head onto the stone ground with a low thud, vision going black.

Dorian sat up in surprise as soon as he’d heard the sound, eyes flashing open. He couldn’t grab him before Mahanon fell, but leapt out of bed instantly. He skidded to the elf’s side, turning him over from where he was hunched on the floor. He had a nasty welt developing on his forehead, a bruise already forming behind the small trickle of blood smudged into his skin. Mahanon’s eyes opened almost as soon as they had shut, and he blinked in surprise. 

And then he laughed. 

“What a way to ruin the mood!” The elf chuckled, eyes bright but apologetic as he looked at Dorian. 

The mage wasn’t in as high spirits, though. “Are you alright?” He asked worriedly, looking at him, “It sounded quite nasty. I can’t believe you have  _ that  _ thick of a skull to walk away unscathed from a head wound.”

“That was uncalled for, don’t you think?” The elf said back with no heat, “But no, I’m fine. How did that even happen?” 

“I don’t know, amatus, I was… otherwise preoccupied, one might say.”

“Classy.” 

The elf laid there for another moment, gauging his own wellbeing more seriously. Honestly? He felt fine. He was shocked from the blow to the head, but really, it didn’t hurt. He was just tired and embarrassed, now. And he just wanted to go to bed and forget his rather untimely fall off of the bed. 

“I’m not really feeling up to it anymore, I think I really did kill the mood…” he said, eyes darting away sheepishly, “Could we continue it another time?”

“Always,” Dorian said, flashing a brilliant smile, “You look pale: are you  _ sure _ you didn’t hurt yourself?”

“I’m  _ always _ pale, Dorian. And I feel absolutely...” he sat up from where he was slumped. The sudden movement made the world swirl before him, two copies of Dorian’s concerned face swimming before him. The bump on his head started to throb, sending a burning headache down behind his eyes. The overwhelming sensation of the blood rushing to his head combined with the blurry sights before him and his now pounding headache made him feel sick, and the elf swayed slightly, swallowing uncomfortably, “...fine…”

“I’m not a fool, Mahanon. You’re not fine,” Dorian said seriously, watching the expression of confusion change to pain and back again a few times. 

“I think I need to lie down…” Mahanon said slowly, thickly, as if he was struggling to get his words out. The truth was, his tongue felt too big for his mouth, as if he didn’t quite know how to control the muscle itself. 

Dorian nodded, throwing the elf’s arms over his shoulder as he lifted him to his feet. Mahanon swayed on the spot so the elf held on a little tighter, supporting most of his weight (not that he weighed much, it was like carrying a leaf). The mage threw the covers back and helped Mahanon climb in. The elf’s movements were sluggish and his hands were trembling slightly. It took about five minutes just to move him safely from the foot of the bed into the bed itself. His every footstep was getting harder to make, a certain tiredness settling in. Perhaps he’d hit his head harder than Dorian had thought. 

Dorian tucked him in gently, “How are you feeling now?” The mage asked, examining the rapidly spreading bruise on the elf’s forehead. It wasn’t bleeding much, there was only a small cut, but there was a large, swelling bump that Dorian could swear he could see growing. 

Mahanon mumbled a response, too tired and disoriented to answer properly, snuggling deeper into the covers. His eyes were still swimming, the flickering candlelight next to him antagonising him, making him feel more nauseous, so he closed his eyes determinedly. “‘M tired,” was the only line Dorian could properly make out. 

Dorian nodded, “Okay. You get some rest, and I’ll go get one of the healers.”

Mahanon’s eyes creaked open a slither, and he grumbled again, “‘M fine.”   
“I’m sure you are, amatus, but I don’t want to leave that to chance,” he pressed a kiss to the elf’s numb lips, “Stay here: I’ll be back soon.”

Mahanon nodded begrudgingly, watching as Dorian dressed quickly and made his way out of the room. Once the room was empty, he found it harder and harder to keep his eyes open. His head was throbbing and he felt so fatigued in all of his muscles and he didn’t quite have the strength to keep them from closing. In moments, his eyes were shut and the elf was asleep. 

Not the best reunion, but it was a memorable one.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed! Let me know if you did! XD


End file.
